Job's Complaint

Q1. Why doesn’t God prevent natural disasters?
Q2. We don’t seem to have anything to learn from “Acts of God”!

A1.F or all we know God regularly intervenes to prevent and mitigate natural disasters. How can we know what God averted given that it was averted? If God preserved ignorant human beings from natural disasters the foundation of “moral hazard” would be undermined.The end in view is of such great value that it justifies the necessary means, the down-side of which pales into insignificance once the final outcome is grasped.
A2. If God averted all natural disasters this would amount to subverting the very basis of Physical Law which holds the whole world in being. Although this would be possible it would make the world fundamentally irrational and at the best very difficult for human beings to “do science”. In deed it might very well entirely demotivate them from this enterprise.

The voice of Job cries out to Heaven: “What have I done?
There’s no just cause for all my liability
to suffer earthquake, hurricane and techtonic eruption.
Why must my best laid plans all end up in futility?
I’m plagued and starved and threatened by corruption
and after my set time by prospect of senility!”


The voice of God replies to Job: “Mark well these words my son,
you’ve no just case against me.
For you have no idea what I’ve already done
for all my folk who live beneath the rainbow gay
which is my favour’s pledge to all humanity.
Your notion of what by physic’s law must come
is based on what you see from day to day
but this is full of my preventive action
how will you then renormalise my grace away?
If I were reticent in giving benediction
the state of things would be much more awry!”



Now Job retorts, in flaming woe: “It would be hard to bear
if only sinners came to such calamity,
but often it’s the just and kind who suffer
this seems to me a great profanity!
You exploit the innocent for sport.
Not content with their servility,
You love to see their red blood spurt.
Delighting in their vulnerability
you shoot your barbs, and cut their sad lives short!”



God makes response, with kindly sense: “But pain and death are not as bad
as they may seem; for there’s a life beyond the grave.
I take no pleasure in what makes you sad
it is my will to prosper you and save
you from all ill. I have no need
for entertainment of that kind
or any other! I want you to succeed
and in this wondrous world to find
much joy! My business is for you to learn
to tell what’s good from what is not,
and my unfeigned respect to earn.
Moral hazard’s necessary if your sort
is ever to exceed what’s natural
and so be worthy of the Life Eternal.”



But Job is not remotely satisfied and shouts: “You say that we
must learn to tell what’s right from wrong
by finding out the upshot of our agency;
but the actions of which my feeble tongue
makes its sincere complaint are Thine,
O God inscrutable –not mine!

What am I supposed to learn from them?
It seems, at best, that You don’t care;
for if You did, You’d intervene
to stop them taking effect where
the innocent would elsewise suffer –
if You were at all just and fair.”



God answers Job, most patiently: “An option’s risk being understood,
if you take it, then that’s your doom!
Choose active fault line as your neighbourhood,
or else the shadow of volcanic cone,
or plateau scoured often by tornadoes,
or shore which tzunamis frequent;
than you must accept all of those
outcomes which flow – or else repent.

The evils of which you make moan
are not my acts intentional
but certain and most sure outcome
of Cosmic rule conventional
which solid holds the World as one.

I must not subsidise your folly
for then you could not learn.
The preservation of your autonomy
(which is a great and glorious good )
requires that I am resolute and stern.
This of my business is foundational
though repent of it I now would;
were making Man divine not my whole goal.”



A final point, Job pleads with God: “You should at least the ignorant show pity
averting dangers of which they don’t know.
If they are unaware that their fair city
sits on a crack that’s fit to make it rock and roll,
or have no clue their scenic mount
is filled with magma, and so soon
with pumice and with flame will fount
and like a lanced carbuncle spume;
then You should reign back every law
for they're secure only as far
as You allow. You’re able to act for
the innocent, if for them You do care –
as You claimed when challenged, after
Your first supper, with your dear friend, before
the fiery doom on Sodom and sad Gomorrah
was cast down. Then the innocent You saw
and You did a good while forebear!”



God then replies from the gyre of His grace: “If the volcano’s blast ne’er hurt
those who knew not its power to harm,
and I always shielded the ignorant,
this would discourage the naïve to learn.

Ish and Ishsha were secured in Eden
by My strict pedagoguey of their innocence
but to explore beyond that narrow glen
they had to taste experience.

If things were not how they are now,
you’d have no reason truth to know.
The more that you came to see how
things work, and did in wisdom grow;
grasping the designs of the world:
the less you would be able to rely
on my sure aid, as being curled
up in my gentle arms, safely.

No sooner than you realised this fact
you’d seek out that knowledge no more
which your first paradisial state had lacked;
but rather your naïvety you would try to restore!

This would undo human autonomy
and worthy self-respect
and its an outcome which I hope you’ll see
I rightly do reject.”

An uncomfortable truth

Why is there any such thing as evil at all?

Why does suffering arise as a possibility in the first place?

For life to exist, there has to be

of life’s compromise the possibility.

Flux can only produce stability

in the presence of non-linearity

and this necessitates catastrophe –

that’s a mathematical certainty.

Hence life implies calamity.

Answering Epicurus

Doesn’t the existence of suffering in the world make it irrational to believe in God?

“If God is just and of great might then why does pain abound?

It seems that either God does nothing care, and so cannot be kind;

or else that God cannot save us, and so cannot be powerful.

So if you insist that God is good and omnipotent, if God be real at all;

then God cannot be real: for suffering is certain sure enough!

Nature’s red in tooth and claw, and merely to survive is tough!

Unanswered, Abel’s blood to heaven does clearly call!”

The Hindu says that suffering is always well deserved.

Those who seem innocent are guilty nonetheless.

Karma’s been accrued by them in a life previous.

The evil they did do before has been conserved

and justice now its sure revenge is taking

Each victim is their own atonement making,

for sins committed in the past they’re paying.

The Buddha tells us suffering’s not real, but a delusion:

attachment to the things of matter causes us confusion.

The soul must be freed from physical encumbrance,

and rise above the realm of pain and find its peace

in merging selflessly and wholly with the One

by meditation, and ceaselessly repeating “Om”.

The Deist tells us that God’s justice is remote.

For after all, we’re tiny things, of little note.

God observes the world from a great distance,

caring nothing for our plight.

For though God’s great, He looks at us askance.

He has no empathy with our life’s fight

’gainst suffering, decay and faction:

our pain is not a worthy motive for God’s action.

The Gnostic claims the Cosmos is imperfect.

The World was neither God’s intent nor act.

God is omnipotent, and just and whole;

but the Creator was incompetent in craft.

The Universe is flawed, but this is not God’s fault.

It never was God’s business, its making not His goal.

The Cosmos cannot be redeemed. Matter is sick at heart;

but freedom can be won, by means occult,

for spirits in it trapped, who thence for Heaven depart.

Calvin says that our idea of good is not correct.

God rightly gives us pain: for we deserve no better!

If God elects to help, His power can this effect:

for nothing may God’s sovereign will impede or fetter;

but being ill, we have no right this to expect,

and if God damns us, we may not object. 

Satan says that God’s not just, but is a monster.

His entertainment lies in causing us to suffer.

There is no good or ill; but only power,

and those who are afraid to exercise their share.

In order to survive, you have to fight and strive.

Don’t look for any help. You’re on your own.

Learn that you can only live and thrive

at the expense of those you’ve battered down.

The wise believe that suff’ring has a purpose.

Our business in this world is for ourselves to learn

the difference between what’s wrong and right:

to ready ourselves for being with each other

and with the tri-une living God for ever.

As yet, we are from God’s great flaming disk,

remote: and may awhile prepare ourselves to bask

in God’s most searing, bright and fearsome light.

My Waifs

These days, I seem to be collecting waifs

like others collect stamps

or the numbers of trains.

It’s a queer hobby, I know,

and not one I’d recommend!

Unless you have a strong heart

and much time to lend.

They pop up as unknowns

at the foot of my screen,

urgently requesting

my immediate attention.

Sometimes I am glad of the company;

sometimes I am glad to be in demand,

for it gets lonely in my basement study

now that I am home alone,

with time at hand.

Sometimes the request

is an interruption of thought

or a distraction from

one endeavour or another.

Sometimes a moment

of solace is besought,

sometimes advice

as from an elder brother.

Always there is a need,

always a life is fraught.

Always there is pain,

always there is despair.

Generally, they are reticent

and coy at first;

but all it really takes

is an invitation to share

A “how can I help?” or a “how are you?”

and a whole sad life-story out does spew.

Some of death too much have seen,

Some by parent abandoned have been.

Some fear rejection for telling their truth.

Some condemn themselves

for being uncouth.

Some with guilt and self-despite

are burdened.

Some are so angry and

with violence consumed.

Some feel wound up tight

and fit to burst.

Some feel unloved

and for love sorely thirst.

Some have broken hearts

that will not mend.

Some see too clearly of this life the end.

Some feel empty and so, so sad.

Some feel wicked and so, so bad.

Some despair of finding peace.

Some in self-harm seek poor release.

Some seek solace in vodka or rhy.

Some their death themselves do try.

Each bares the scars of despite.

Each one cowers in the night:

frightened of the darkness

that lurks there as a sickness

threatening in its slickness

to overwhelm their soul

and render them unwhole.

I do what little I can to help and mend.

I listen, affirm and tell them I understand

(Because I do understand,

for I have been there.

I have ridden the bucking nightmare.

I have felt the gut-wrenching sorrow,

with no prospect of a dawning morrow.

I have had my full share of strife.

I have at times lost faith with life.)

I try to give them hope,

when faith they do not know.

I tell them they are loved;

that mercy they must show;

and that they must themselves

forgive and loose the guilt

that holds them fast and

has a fortress round them built.

I tell them life can be

a glorious exaltation

something of sturdy

and stalwart stone and ice:

something of fluid

and playful conflagration

varied and multiform,

yet stable and precise:

an intimation and disclosure

of heavenly eternity

thrusting forcefully and surely

into earthly futility.

So much sorrow, so much pain.

So many people lost and forlorn.

So many people in need.

So many souls to feed.

So little that I can do;

but I do what I can, will you?